


In Moments of Stress

by firefly_jars



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: Drabbles, Fluff, Implied Romance, M/M, just need some fluff, park bros, parkbros!!!! pls, short stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21947179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly_jars/pseuds/firefly_jars
Summary: Basically, I started writing some random little drabbles between the DAY6 members and realized... hey, these are all just about them being stressed out and comforting one another, so here. Also, these are all pretty... platonic-ish? Just wholesome fluff and emotion talk. It gets just a bit heavy when it comes to Jae, to give a gentle warning.
Relationships: Kang Younghyun | Young K/Kim Wonpil, Kim Wonpil/Yoon Dowoon, Park Jaehyung | Jae/Park Sungjin
Kudos: 34





	In Moments of Stress

“Oi, Sungjin! Let’s go, we’re bout to be late!”

A muffled curse from the other side of the door. Some sniffles, a tear of tissues, some shuffling, a lid shutting. The taps turn on, then off, and the bathroom door is whipped open in haste.

“Hey, you okay?” Jae nearly blurts. He takes a fleeting glance at Sungjin’s face and promptly decides not to ask — they’re late for their fan meeting anyway, and asking only triggers more tears.

The two dash out of their dorm, the last members to squeeze into the minivan.

“What took you guys so long?” Wonpil whines, not without affection.

Sungjin is about to apologize, “Sor—“

“— Hey, everyone needs to take a shit sometimes, okay? Don’t blame me,” Jae cuts in. The whole car busts out laughing.

Sungjin blinks, and lets out a snort. Alright, hyung.

* * *

The minivan echoes with Young K’s outrageous laughter as Dowoon tries to pronounce some other ridiculous word in English, and Wonpil is busy in the seat in front of them, last-minute cramming lyrics into his brain before their live radio show performance. Today’s lyrical challenge? “Be Lazy.” Last time he’d sung, “The food may be dry, but I’ll make it for you,” instead of “Don’t worry about food; I’ll cook for you!” which had elicited more than just a few laughs, and a hell of a red-faced keyboard player.

“Don’t worry about food.. I’ll cook it for you... You just lie here... I’ll do it all...”

“Woww, how romantic of you, Pillie!” Young K jumps in.

Wonpil lets out a whine. “Ah, don’t be like that, hyung.. I keep forgetting these lyrics and I’m worried I’ll mess them up again!”

“Ah, yeah, sorry, you know I’m just teasing. Besides,” he adds, “I’m second only to you at forgetting the words to our songs... Considering I write so many of them, that’s pretty bad.”

Dowoon chuckles at that, unable to help but eavesdrop.

Wonpil sighs but cracks a smile. “I guess you’re right about that... You know what, it’s a radio broadcast... If they don’t zoom in while filming us, they won’t see if I have my phone there, right?”

Dowoon cackles. “Pillie hyung, that’s how you’re gonna deal with this problem? By cheating? Wow, what an excellent student you must have been.”

Wonpil whines. “Give me a break!”

Dowoon caves and gives him an awkward hug-of-sorts from behind, his arms awkwardly reaching from behind the car seat. “Just joking, hyung! If I had to know all the lyrics to all the songs, I’d probably forget a bunch, too... I’m lucky I’m the drummer.” In his arms, Wonpil smiles. Dowoon’s hands, thrumming with energy, are always so warm.

“Yeah, you are! Otherwise I’d have to squint trying to share my phone screen between three people with the lyrics!”

* * *

Before he knows it, Young K is up past two again. Netflix bingeing is a serious ailment, he swears, and he’s a patient in dire straits. He doesn’t know why, but he has no energy in him to go out anymore, or chat with Terry, or even look up mukbang videos! He’s been in slumps before, but this just feels out of the blue. It’s been ages since any of his band mates argued or fought over something, he’s been exercising, practicing... But going nowhere. If he’s going nowhere, something’s going wrong. But what?

“Briiaaaann,” coos a sweet, teasing voice.

Wonpil (of course) stands in the doorway to the living room where it’s just Younghyun and his laptop, and his earbuds. He pulls one out. “Who’s Brian?”

Wonpil giggles and jumps onto the sofa beside his bandmate. “Haha, just teasing~! What’re you watching?”

Young K just sighs and shakes his head with a telltale smile. “Ah, you know... Shrek.”

“Again!? I thought you said you only watched it years ago when you were trying to learn English!”

“Hey, it’s pretty fun, too, though.”

Wonpil snorts. “Alright.. How come you’re watching it right now, though? Is it worth staying up this late?” He gives Younghyun a pointed look.

“You and I both know too well that both of us have stayed up way later before... Not to mention, you haven’t given any excuse as to why you’re awake.” Young K stares right back at him, brows raised.

“Oh, yeah, that’s true. I was just... uh...” He scratches his head. “Been trying to think of concepts and compositions, all that. You know I’m not so confident about it but I really want to come up with something good for our upcoming projects.”

Young K smiles. “Yeah, you work pretty hard, buddy. Make sure you get some breaks in, though.”

“Says you!” Wonpil pouts, almost blows a raspberry at him. “You never give yourself a break! You’re just nonstop chugging along all the time, practicing, drafting lyrics, rearranging, producing... You’re everywhere!”

Young K just stares. “Pillie, I’ve been doing nothing the past few days. What do you mean?”

“Yeah, ‘cause you crashed! Finally!”

Younghyun nearly jumps at Wonpil suddenly raising his voice. “Whoa, Pillie..”

Wonpil isn’t about to stop. “It’s like... caffeine for you is like... just in a whole other time setting... You fly off the rails for a few months, then boom...” He pouts, and his voice winds down to exasperation. “You slump from being so worn out. The caffeine crash kicks in, and you’re just exhausted... And then you stay up watching stupid Shrek for a week or two. Then you’re back at it.” Wonpil crosses his arms, eyebrows knitted.

Young K’s eyes are lost.

“Judging by the look on your face, you’ve never noticed this pattern, huh.” Wonpil whines. “Man, you’re just so dense when it comes to yourself... C’mon, turn off your laptop and let’s get to bed.” He pulls Young K’s arm towards their bedrooms.

Young K pulls back. “Hold on, Wonpil.” He stiffens. “How do I get out of this crash?”

Wonpil frowns at him and huffs. “What you need. Is sleep. And some good food. When’s the last time you had something mukbang-worthy?” He pouts again. “And plus, you need to talk out your worries with us! You’re lucky I’m so affectionate and full of aegyo that I’d purposely chat you up like this in the middle of the night.” He grins for a moment, then falls quiet. “I get tired waiting for you to fall asleep when I know all you really need is some talking.”

“Wait...” Young K’s eyes widen. “You were waiting for me to go to sleep?”

Wonpil squints at him, his unimpressed pout somehow deepening into a really cute scowl of sorts. “Yeah! It’s exhausting, let me tell you. I just hear you snacking or chuckling or humming things and adlibbing all over the place in your falsetto, and I can’t fall asleep!”

Young K looks down at his feet. “I’m sorry, Pillie.. I didn’t realize I was doing that, and keeping you awake... Man, I really have just been... tired and... worn out for a while, huh... And now it’s wearing you out, too.”

An arm wraps around his shoulder. “Yeah, hyunnie-hyung. It’s okay. I don’t actually mind it much... I mostly just mind that you’re so strung out when you’re working so hard. Too hard. And I know that’s just your nature, but you have to know when to call it quits before you burn out. ‘Cause then you end up reverting to your Shrek phase.”

Young K chuckles, cracks a smile. He sighs and leans into Wonpil’s arm. “Alright, yeah. You’re right, you little... meanie. Calling me out like this... just cruel.”

“It’s just the truth.”

“Yeah, I know. I just never feel like whatever I do is enough... There’s so much to do, and so little time.”

Wonpil pauses, his mind composing. “There’s always enough time when it’s your peace of mind at stake. You deserve it.” He squeezes Young K’s shoulder and nudges his foot. “C’mon.”

Young K complies. “Alrighty. Let’s go.”

“Yes!”

“As soon as I’m done Shrek 2.”

“Oh, no you don’t!”

Younghyun stifles his giggles when Wonpil’s nimble little fingers mischievously find their way to his armpits to tickle him away from his laptop. He lets himself be ushered into his bedroom with a sweet “Good night, hyung!” from Pillie, and curls up into a restful sleep.

* * *

Oh, no. He’s breaking down again. Jae can feel it coming before the first tear starts to well in his eye. He yanks off his glasses, grabs fistfuls of his hair. He hides his face with his hands. He scowls at himself... him and his stupid emotions and mental instability and anxiety and, fuck, there he goes. Under.

He shuts his door. He’s lucky he’s the oldest and this dorm grants him his own room. His own space to sulk, to exist and breathe in his own miserable way. To be able to run through this whole cycle again, on his own, in peace. He almost laughs bitterly at the irony. Peace. There’s no such thing in his head, at least not right now.

Thought after thought races past his mind. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Stop, just stop, just stop, just stop...”

He’s not enough, he isn’t practicing enough, he can’t write or produce for shit, all he can do is tinkle around on his fancy guitar that outclasses its player by miles. Stupid American boy, too foolish to gain fluency in Korean, to properly know his roots, to talk to his bandmates without a hint of that oh-so-Western lilt and tone. A foreigner in his own heritage, an idiotic kid spinning dreams, not giving a fuck as to —

“Stop!”

Jae can’t breathe. He can’t. Too many thoughts, too many rapid-fire bullets of self-deprecating remarks, accusations of inadequacy, incompetence. His self-worth withers—

“Oi, Jae-hyung—“

Sungjin stops at the door. His hand freezes by the knob, his feet in place.

“Hyung—“

He is tempted to rush to Jae’s side, hold his hands, grab him some tissues ( _many_ tissues), but his feet won’t move. He’s afraid that one step closer will just cause his bandmate to crack, to fracture. He can’t stand to see Jae like this. His friend. “Jae-hyung..”

Jae just gasps for breath between silent sobs. His lungs shake and his hands won’t leave his face. Such a frail mask. Sungjin always wants to believe his hyung has a strong heart that can withstand so much and give so much warmth, but it hurts him to be reminded of the taxing costs of exuding so much energy. He crumbles at the sight of Jae’s raw pain. It’s heartwrenching.

Sungjin backs out of the doorway and runs down the hall to his room, just a couple of doors down.

Jae sits alone for a moment, the noise dimmed just a little by the interruption and the sudden wave of panic and nausea at having been discovered. Having been exposed, vulnerable, to his bandmate. Sungjin can’t see him like this. He isn’t one for emotion, and he sure as hell won’t appreciate the eldest member of the team breaking down like a child. He’s letting everyone down, once again. Jae, the weak link in the chain. He shouldn’t even be here, riding the coattails of his younger, more talented —

“—Jae-hyung.” Sungjin’s frantic footsteps and voice cut through Jae’s searing inner voice. “Here.”

Jae looks down, peers through his fingers. His vision is swimming and his tears blur the world in front of him, but he makes out something white. White and round, like a stuffed —

Sniffle. Jae’s head pounds. He painstakingly lowers his hands from his face, tear-streaked and red. “What’s that..?” He reaches out with a finger and touches something soft. A stuffie?

Sungjin pushes it closer to Jae. It’s a ball of white plush fabric, with sewn-on button eyes and some strange yellowish.. hair? It takes Jae too long to register that it’s a chick. It’s him.

Jae sniffles again, and a fresh round of dizzy aching rings through his head. “Ah, yikes. Man, I can’t. Hell...”

Sungjin grabs tissues from the box in his other hand. “Hyung, use these, here.” He places a fistful in Jae’s hand while it’s not hiding his face. “Do you want me to go and just leave these here? I can fetch some water...”

Sungjin pauses, brows knitted and eyes silently imploring Jae to look at him, or say something.

Restless sobs rack Jae’s shoulders as he struggles to gain any semblance of composure. “I...” He trails off, the thought vanishing.

Sungjin lets out a breath. “Hey, hyung, let’s just take a few easy deep breaths, yeah? In... and out...”

He pulls in just a little closer, so that Jae can hear his whispering and feel his deep breaths, so he can follow along. Slowly, Jae’s breaths join Sungjin’s to fill the quiet of the room. He wipes his cheek. Sniffles. Rattling, slow breaths slow the spinning of his head. The thoughts give up. Sungjin persists with the deep breaths, and slowly starts to pat Jae’s back with an awkward, warm hand.

Jae opens his eyes again, sees the strange, handmade stuffie. He grabs onto its little crooked beak, and Sungjin lets out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he had in him.

“O-okay...” Jae gets out a whisper. “I.. I’m good. I... Thanks, Sungjin. It’s getting better.”

“Okay, okay. Do you want some more tissues? Here, take these. And — yeah, here, I’ll take those and toss ‘em out—“

“—Thank you, Sungjin.”

“... Of course, Jae-hyung.”

He blows his nose. Loudly. Sungjin cracks a sweet smile and Jae pretends he doesn’t see it.

* * *

Man, he just can’t nail the kind of sound he wants today. Dowoon can’t figure out what it is. He knows what rhythm he wants, the tone he’s looking for, and somewhere along the way from his head to his hands, the message is intercepted and messed up like a game of telephone with kindergarteners. Dowoon grunts. Damn. It’s the millionth time he’s checked his drum tuning, the billionth he’s repeated the same few bars of the song. Something about the feel is just... off. He just can’t quite put his finger on it...

Dowoon looks up at the sound of rustling sheet music. “Oh, hey, Pillie-hyung. What’re you doing down here?” The drum kit practice space isn’t exactly Wonpil’s typical territory.

“Dowoon-ah! Can I get your thoughts on the rhythm of this little piano riff I’ve been trying to figure out? I need to know how you’d feel about drumming alongside this sort of groove.”

Dowoon looks over at Wonpil’s scribbles on his sheet music paper. It’s a bit of a mess, as usual, but nothing Dowoon’s trained eyes can’t handle. If there’s anyone who can decipher Wonpil’s chicken scratch, it’s the little drummer boy.

“Ohh, okay... Hmm. So, like this?” Dowoon drums out a few bars of the rhythm.

“Yeah, exactly. Hmm, it sure sounds a bit different on the drum kit...” Wonpil scratches his chin. He narrows his eyes.

Dowoon plays the rhythm again and watches Wonpil’s expressions run amok, from a mildly approving, “Yeah, alright,” sort of look to a, “Actually, yikes,” face. “Ahhhh, man, Dowoon, I don’t know. How would you play with this riff? Could you show me?”

Dowoon pauses, takes in the keyboard notation. Alright. He first repeats the keyboard’s rhythm again, then launches into his response. What feels right. Just quick, easy intuition.

Wonpil’s eyes light up. “Wow, that’s great! Holy, Dowoon, you little..! I think that’s actually pretty worth going after! That makes me feel like it could be worth pursuing... Hmm...”

“Wait, actually, Pillie-hyung, lemme adjust something.” He grabs his snare and repositions his kick-drum. He runs through the bars again, but this time in a more vivacious, upbeat tone to complement the slow progression of the keyboard. The effect, as Wonpil imagines his piano on top of the drums, is mesmerizing.

“Wow... Man, of course! Dowoon, this is something only you can pull off!” He grins and giggles at the little drummer boy. “Thanks so much! You little cutie~ our little genius maknae~!” He launches into a little fit of classic Pillie affection and Dowoon just laughs and brushes him off.

“It was easy; your composition is amazing, hyung. I really like it. I think it’d sound really good. Let’s try it out with everyone soon.” He smiles sheepishly.

“Yeah, I’d better get cracking! That was so helpful, thanks, Dowoon. My saviour!” Wonpil hugs him so tightly that he thinks he might choke. Dowoon grins and pats Wonpil’s back.

“Pfft, okay, hyung. See you. Show me how the rest of it’ll go later!”

Wonpil nods, beams brilliantly as always, and runs off to his practice room. Dowoon lets out a little chuckle. His hyung is so, so... cute. He doesn’t know how to deal with all that affection sometimes. His earlier frustration feels so distant and small. His thoughts linger just a moment longer on Wonpil, and then he gets back to work.

**Author's Note:**

> sweet! if you've read this far, thanks a lot! i hope you love these goofballs as much as i do because they work so hard and theyre so fun to watch and their music is just so great i love them and also i love parkbros like crazy sorry not sorry hyung line ftw


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